


Ignis Fatuus

by ChecktheHolonet



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Reylo - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9682370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChecktheHolonet/pseuds/ChecktheHolonet
Summary: Ignis Fatuus.Noun. Medieval Latin: "foolish fire."It is madness, this interplay between what he cannot have and what he’s trained himself to covet.Kylo Ren is nothing if not weak.





	

It starts as a single, forbidden thought in his head. Late at night, in his empty, frigid quarters, far from his master's scornful gaze, Kylo Ren allows himself to imagine. To fantasize. To conjure her image like a sorcerer’s spell, fanning a single spark to flame. He cradles his mind around her memory, nurtures it, an expanding pleasured impulse that coalesces in the pit of his belly, anticipation so sweet to taste, just barely enough to feed an appetite already starved for carnal pleasure. For affection.

In this tiny room, isolated from another soul save the Supreme Leader’s, his body aches, another day’s brutal training complete, another night of silence looming on the horizon. When it crests, his demons will come to call, slithering under the welded door and into his defenseless mind, stripped clean by the Leader’s ministrations. Mustafar’s heat cannot penetrate this citadel of durasteel walls, will not shield him from shadows looming in the recesses of his mind.

Kylo trembles, curling his knees high against his abdomen, hiding bruises patchworked across pale skin, deep gashes he’s forbidden to heal. His failure, clear and present, for all to see. He should meditate, he knows. Ruminate on his own weakness, his wretched inability to harness the innate power lying dormant. And yet…a voice, so soft, so familiar, so real to be almost corporeal, whispers, “ _rest, Kylo. Rest, tonight.”_

It is madness, this interplay between what he cannot have and what he’s trained himself to covet. If the Supreme Leader should visit his thoughts he’d be doused in visceral agony. But…it’s been so long. So very long since he’s heard her voice, seen her face, teased himself with her luminous memory. A taste, a few minutes of blessed escape, is worth the risk. Kylo Ren is nothing if not weak.

He stretches, eases his hands up under his tattered tunic, mapping his body clockwork-sure, nipples drawing up hard and tight as he slides the fabric over his head and pushes his robes to the floor. Cold air caresses his skin, tenses his musculature into stark relief, sends shivers along his body’s meridians as his hands begin to move. To tease. Light touches at first. A glancing caress over a sculpted hip, a brush of fingertips over the edge of a rib; sensation so bare it doesn’t quite take hold in reality, instead hiding in imagination’s depths. He sighs, palming his cock, pushing firmly into his hand as he licks his lips and lets his mind wander.

She would want him. Call his name. Beg for his touch. Offer absolution. Comfort. Companionship. Allow him to hold her, worship her, draw her close against his heart’s unyielding demons. She is all of the Light’s forbidden alchemy, extinguished more with each step he takes toward darkness, and yet he cannot temper his craving. Memory remains a cruel mistress; possibility’s specter unforgiving as it dangles everything he ever wanted just out of reach.

He gets hard slowly, taking the time to make it good, make it last. Visions dancing in mind’s eye as his hands turn rough, determined. She’d tease him, coaxing his pleasure like a charmed snake, murmuring against his thigh, dusting kisses on tender skin that seldom saw the sun. He’d let her. Indulge her. Beg her.

He doesn’t stroke himself fully, not yet. His heavy cock leaks onto his belly, weeping for her touch. Clenching his eyes shut, he traces trembling hands up his ribcage, allowing his fingers to flirt with his nipples. She’d kiss them, he thinks, pressing soft lips against the aching points, wrapping them in warm, sweet suction before squeezing down with eager teeth. Shuddering, he moans once, tossing his head to the side, hips arching up in search of pleasure, finding nothing but empty air. He loves to tease, loves to hold off, to deny himself, to let it build, but tonight he’s fighting a battle long lost. He seizes his cock, stroking methodic and slow until he’s nearly out of his mind with pleasure. His once-gentle fingers twist and pull with cruel intent, sending heated shuddering pulses down his body’s axis until he pulls himself away from the edge, groaning in frustration, half-blind with need. _Wait. Wait. Not yet._

“ _Shhhhhh_ , _love,_ ” she’d whisper, “ _enjoy it. We have all the time in the world._ ” A patent lie, but one he’d swallow with relish, tracing his tongue over fragrant skin and supple curves.

Hot, now. The chill driven from the room. Warm, so warm. Skin flushed, sweat beginning to collect in the dips and valleys of his aching, anxious body. She would calm him, pet him with careful hands, press kisses across his brow, trace gentle fingers through his hair until he’d sigh. Relax. Settle. He’d offer himself without reservation, her name falling from his lips in unending refrain, silenced only by the reverent touch of her mouth.

_Such lies._

He is weak. Yearning, always yearning, calling her name in a broken, pleading voice. He can see himself if he closes his eyes, knows the pall of desperation that must color his face, can hear the needy noises he makes as they ring out buckshot-clear. _Pathetic_.

“ _It’s alright, Kylo,_ ” she’d tell him, and he’d lean into her touch, allowing her smooth, soft palm to cradle his cheek. His eyes would flutter shut as she encouraged him, low and soft, “ _take_ _what_ _you need, dearheart_. _I’ll give it to you.”_

He abandons restraint with a single, guttural cry.

_Can’t wait anymore...waited too long..._

Anxious fingers reach down to grasp his cock, pulling in smooth, steady motion as he works his hips, wrenching another ragged groan from the back of his throat. He’s close now; he can feel it. Can taste it on the very tip of his tongue, thighs tensed and back arched as he pushes himself higher, harder. He can smell her skin, taste her breath, see the devoted look in her eyes as he thrusts home. Aching. Just out of reach, pleasure’s apex a hair’s breadth away.

 _Almost there_...grip firm now, strokes rough, teeth closed tight on the tender skin of his lip as he recalls her face with perfect clarity, hears his name escape her voice in a fevered moan, eyes wide and wild. He comes abruptly, spilling hot and thick onto his stomach.

His lips form her name, but not a sound escapes.

Dragging in ragged gasps of air, he drifts back down. Quietly, he moans, stuttered breath ricocheting in the room’s oppressive silence. Time slides through his fingers as his pulse slows and his sweat cools. _Cold_ , he thinks. _It’s so cold here._ In his mind’s eye, she watches him with rapt attention, skin flushed. Glowing. Satisfied. Warm. Tracing her knuckles across his face, she whispers his name. Kisses his lips. Murmurs nonsense words, soft and unbearably sweet. She wipes tears from his eyes before he buries his face in the rough fabric of his damp, chilly sheets. Alone.

The light. Always, always, it calls to him. Leads to her.

“Come back,” he murmurs across the galaxy, loathing the need in his voice, the unapologetic longing, “please…”

In a room lightyears away, Rey pauses, a long, loaded moment stretching between them. She hesitates. Then, she disappears from his mind, shutting him out like a lock thrown tight.

“ _Soon_ ,” she whispers, “ _soon_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos on my earlier work. I was hesitant to get back into the fanfic game but you've made me feel so welcome. <3
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @checktheholonet


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